


An(other) Destiny

by Malu_3 (Grainne)



Series: Merlin Summer Pornathon 2014 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female-identifying Merlin, Intersex Character, Other, Summer Pornathon 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grainne/pseuds/Malu_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's the "who," rather than the dreaded "what," that decides Merlin, that and the lush breasts pressing into her back, the warm, sweet breath at her ear, the scent of magic. She's tired of being alone, untouched, dismissed as "devilspawn… half-man… a queer piece of snatch."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	An(other) Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Entry for Challenge 5: Snatch

Merlin travels in trousers, enjoys the freedom of scouting each new town as a gangly, forgettable boy. She knows how dangerous Camelot is for her sort, has been warned off going there, but the Great Dragon did say that it was where she'd find her destiny.

* * * 

It's her neck that first catches Morgana's notice, long and pale as a courtier's. It's topped by a glossy cap of dark hair, cropped short, the ends curling in the steam rising from the bath she's busy filling. She wears no cap or headcloth, does not stoop to disguise her height.

If she's meant to be grieving a husband, Morgana thinks slyly, it's not one she cared for overmuch. 

She shifts away from the window, pulls the tip of her dagger from where she'd been worrying at a bit of loose mortar.

"You're new."

"Yes, my lady."

"And your name is…?"

"Hardly of consequence." 

It's all said in a deferential murmur, but there is nonetheless something in the girl's tone, in the fact that she keeps her face turned away, that piques Morgana's interest.

She drops an empty bucket and squats to lift its full companion like a common labourer, and it is this, the contrast between her rough manners and elegant neck, that are suddenly, shockingly, familiar. 

That day, on the training ground, the boy who'd dared challenge Arthur in front of his men, who'd later saved him from a dagger through the heart, only to disappear before he could be rewarded…

It's _that_ brazenness, that same neck – no longer saddled with a ridiculous scarf – and how could Morgana have missed those _ears_?

Morgana's behind her in three swift paces, dagger pressed to that pale throat. The half-emptied bucket falls into the bath with a terrific splash, soaking the girl's skirts and sending water surging over the side.

"Who _are_ you?" Morgana hates the way her voice betrays her, the note of wonder in it. The feel of the girl's skin under her fingertips makes her blood sing. She recalls the words from her dreams, knows, with a shiver of certainty, that she's grasping the truth of them.

_"… one in which you see a strength, a beauty like no other. There you will find your match, Morgana Pendragon."_

* * * 

It's the "who," rather than the dreaded "what," that decides Merlin, that and the lush breasts pressing into her back, the warm, sweet breath at her ear, the scent of magic. She's tired of being alone, untouched, dismissed as "devilspawn… half-man… a queer piece of snatch."

And the dragon did say…

"Merlin," she whispers, mouth dry. Between her thighs, it's another story; she's as hard, as wet as she ever gets.

"It _is_ you." The tip of the dagger drags across Merlin's skin, recedes over her shoulder. She hears it clatter on the floor. "I knew it. But then why – "

"I am not like other women," Merlin cuts in, turning.

"So I'd noticed." 

Merlin's suddenly hyperaware of her meagre chest and large hands, the eager nub between her legs. Normally it wouldn't show, but her shift's plastered to her and she can feel it, the little beast, rubbing against the wet fabric.

The Lady Morgana's expression softens. She takes Merlin's hand, studying it intently as she draws it up to her mouth. Then she turns it, smiling, and presses a kiss to Merlin's palm. 

"It's not many women who'd champion Morris," she says, smirking, "nor challenge Arthur in public. Tell me, Merlin, would you – "

"Nor am I a boy," Merlin blurts, staring at her hand ensconced in Morgana's, at the crimson mark left there by her beautiful lips and _oh_ she lied before because she feels, harder, wetter now. "If that's what you're wanting."

"What I _want_ , pretty one, is to kiss you," Morgana says, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"And if I want…more?" 

"Meaning?"

Merlin draws a shaky breath, licks her lips. "Your tongue… would be the perfect size for my cunt, my lady. It's quite small. You could easily fill me up."

"And what of this naughty thing?" Morgana holds Merlin's gaze as her free hand slips between them, brushes against her nub.

"You must tame it as suits you, my lady – wear it out, or teach it to wait until you, too, have taken your pleasure."

The other eyebrow goes up. Then, to Merlin's delight, Morgana's shoving her back towards the bed, yanking down Merlin's bodice, muttering something in the old language as she kisses – claims – Merlin's tits, her shoulders, her neck.


End file.
